Review: Peter Broderick - Home

A sonic cathedral of sound? Please: Listening to Peter Broderick's latest album Home is like watching Alan Ball's totemic plastic bag fluttering around Chartes.

In other more straightforward words, it's really a quite captivating experience where songs are often built on precisely stacked harmonies, guitars describe stately arpeggios, Broderick sings of the sky and stats and snow and nature, and washes of subtle instrumentation sketch a twilit mood, expansive but still.

It's a serence experience. The only downside? I can't remember a thing about it when it's finished. Two possibilities: A) it's a serene experience, immersive and narcotic, where the way songs shift and blur track by track is half the point.

Or B) the songs are a bit dull.

I'm feeling generous, so let's go with A.

Update: He doesn't sing of stats. He sings of stars. No-one in their right mind sings of stats. "Your beauty is an outlier on a standard distribution curve" has none of the makings of a classic lyric.